


Craigslist for Overlords

by candiedrobot



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Draugluin: who is definitely a dog not a wolf shut up before the neighbours hear, M/M, Mairon's haunted house, Mairon's weird pets, Modern AU, One does not simply move in with Mairon, Ungoliant: who has a shitlist consisting entirely of Melkor, a small army of bearded dragons, aro ace Eru and his adopted musical children, conductor Melkor, poc Melkor, the Craigslist AU, welder Mairon, what am I doing with my life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3914533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candiedrobot/pseuds/candiedrobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melkor's been down on his luck lately.  After involuntarily quitting his old job as an orchestra conductor, he finds himself looking for a new place to stay, far away from his meddlesome family.  A Craigslist ad seems to hold all the answers, but will his new roommate prove too much of a headache to handle, or will the fiery little welder (and his unusual collection of lizards and ouija boards) end up stealing Melkor's heart?</p>
<p>With guest appearances by long-suffering dad Eru, Mairon's less than savoury friends, some ghosts and a band of brothers that might possibly be the mob, follow Melkor's adventures in life, love, and stolen jewelry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to everyone who has been so enthusiastic about this story over on tumblr! You all are the best, and your comments and asks give me life. Follow me on [tumblr](www.candiedrobot.tumblr.com) for headcanons, snippets and general ramblings.

Melkor paused, his mouse hovering over the back button, accustomed as he’d become to bland, uninteresting and unproductive craigslist ads that spoke of white picket fences or fifteen college students crammed into a four bedroom apartment with a broom cupboard for rent.

Melkor had lost his job recently, after an unfortunate incident with his boss, who also happened to be his dad and had reacted rather poorly to his (pretty damn righteous, if he did say so himself) rendition of Swan Lake on opening night. He wasn’t homeless yet, but his house in Utumno wasn’t exactly a secret from his family, and if he had to listen to his father or one of his brothers or sisters beating on his door or shouting at him on the answering machine for one more moment, he was likely to go completely insane. (He honestly could not take another message that consisted of nothing but his sister Nienna crying incessantly. He had even named a very particular kind of migraine after her.)

All search for rentals or roomshares in the area had been completely fruitless, however, until now.

Melkor liked scary movies. And he liked animals too. He certainly wouldn’t mind a cat or a dog running around. And the house looked pretty interesting. Melkor was a sucker for creepy aesthetic, and he would have his own room, a firepit on the balcony, and on-site laundry. And hell, if nothing else, the price was right.

He wasn’t sure if the haunted part was a joke or not, but he’d seen Paranormal Activity and he was pretty sure he could fight a ghost if he had to.

Melkor released the mouse and picked up his phone, dialing the numbers on the screen carefully, a wide grin on his face. There was no way his dad would find him in a haunted house in the middle of Angband. This was perfect. The phone rang a few times and then voicemail picked up,

“Hi you’ve reached Mairon, I’m busy right now, but leave me a message and I’ll get back to you. If this is Pharazôn you need to fucking grow a pair and invest in a therapist, financial advisor or psychic. Leave me alone.”

There was a loud BEEP, and Melkor blinked at the phone, confused for a moment before he gathered his thoughts and began with his message.

“Hi there! You don’t know me, but my name’s Melkor.”


	2. Chapter 1 - Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a full day of plotting out Melkor's entire family, I have somehow managed to finish a chapter. Tolkien forgive me.
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading! Please enjoy the official first meeting of our favourite assholes~

Melkor tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the hard plastic of the café table and blew a wayward strand of muted black hair out of his face. It fluttered in the air and then settled over his face in the same place it started. Melkor frowned.

He was waiting for Mairon, the Craigslist guy he desperately hoped he'd be able to rent from. He wouldn't assume, from the ad he had placed, that many people would seriously reply, but then it was only two hundred dollars a month, so it was possible he'd have some competition after all.

Mairon had sounded friendly enough on the phone, when he'd returned his message and offered to meet at a local coffee shop to discuss business. (“Can't I see the house?” Melkor had asked, but Mairon had wanted to meet in public before giving him the address. He couldn't say he blamed him.) Apparently Mairon was a redhead, and Melkor was supposed to recognise him by his illuminati T Shirt (Melkor didn't ask). His voice had sounded bright on the phone, and he seemed smart, witty.

Melkor was anxious to meet him.

He drummed his fingers on the table again and glanced up at the clock. 6:18. Mairon was almost twenty minutes late. He took a sip of his coffee (black, with a shot of espresso) and took out his hair tie, combing his fingers through the long strands before tying it all back again. He glanced down at his own clothing and wondered for the thousandth time that day if he was overdressed. He was wearing nicely tailored black trousers that showed off his ass in a way that made him feel smug and confident, and he tucked his deep red button-up shirt into them neatly. A black tie completed his 'slick business-guy Lucifer' look, and his hair now lie neatly in its low ponytail down his back.

Maybe he was overdressed, but he knew he looked damn good, and Mairon sounded cute. His nerves flared up again when he thought about the possibility that he might be wrong- or worse, that he was right. ( _You aren't here to get laid,_ he told himself. _No matter how cute he is, you have to keep your head in the game. Don't flirt with him and fuck it up.)_

The door jingled and Melkor looked up, his breath catching in his throat. Half of his brain started playing Uptown Funk while the other side carried on with Sephiroth's Theme from Final Fantasy. That was Mairon, there was no doubt about it. A loud mess of fiery hair in varying shades of red, orange and blonde lay draped over one shoulder in a loose braid that did little to tame it, and he wore the described Illuminati shirt- faded yellow with the symbol in crinkled black, a loose black vest over it and a pair of dark shades over his eyes. His brick red skinny jeans hugged his hips and his legs like a second skin, and his black biker boots were leather and looked like they could kick someone's face in. Melkor was, slightly, possibly, ~~a little bit~~ a lot in love at first sight.

He lifted his hand in an awkward wave, and when Mairon caught his eyes, he smiled and waved back. His long legs made short work of the distance to Melkor's table, and he slung his bag over his shoulder and onto the other chair with a thud. “Watch that for a minute, will you? I've had a long day and I need caffeine. Be right back.”

Before Melkor had a chance to say anything more than, “yeah okay,” Mairon was on his way up to the counter and Melkor was left with the stunning vision his ass made in those jeans as he left. Moving in with this man was either going to be the best decision he had ever made, or the worst.

He made eye contact with a middle-aged man halfway across the room who had previously been ogling Mairon in much the same way, staring at his ass, and the way he angled his hips as he leaned on the counter and rattled off his order to the barista. The man had the beginnings of a grin forming on his face, his laptop forgotten on the table before him. Melkor caught his eye and gave him the most horrific, soul-devouring, drag-you-to-hell look he could muster and mouthed the words ' _I'll kill you,'_ in silent promise. The man startled and looked quickly back down at his screen, having the decency to look properly alarmed, guilty, and not just a little bit terrified.

Melkor was still sipping smugly on his coffee when Mairon returned, and he looked up and gave him a charming smile. “What did you get?” 

Mairon set his cup down and rearranged his things so he could take a seat opposite him. Melkor noticed he had a to-go cup instead of the ceramic in-house mug he had- as if he didn't expect to stay long. Melkor resisted the urge to frown.  _That won't do at all._ Mairon scooted in and tossed his braid back over his shoulder absently. “Dirty Chai,” he said easily. Melkor gave him a confused shrug. He had never heard of it. “Oh it's a chai latte, but with espresso, hence the 'dirty'.”

Melkor bit back a smart retort and took a sip of his coffee to hide the effort it took.  _So you like it a little dirty, huh?_ “I see,” he said instead with a small smile.

“Anyways,” Mairon started, crossing his legs and settling one arm over the back of his chair confidently. “So you wanna rent the room huh? Even after everything I said in the ad?”

Melkor laughed, fully aware of the smooth tone his voice took when he flirted (which, he admitted to himself, he was maybe doing, just a little, maybe) “Trying to weed out the weak?” He leaned back in his chair.

Mairon chuckled. “You could say that,” he replied. “I mean, I'm not so desperate that I'll just take on anyone who throws money at me.” (Melkor couldn't tell if the innuendo was intentional or not, but Mairon had that eternal twinkle in his eyes- which, he noted,  after Mairon had removed his sunglasses and set them on the table,  were a vibrant shade of amber-honey, and vaguely hypnotising)

“So why the ad?”

Mairon shrugged. “I could use the extra money. I don't need it, but it would help. I haven't had as many commissions lately, and I don't want to go back to working for a company unless I have to, so money's been a little tight.”

“Ah,” Melkor said, remembering Mairon's ad. “You're a welder, right?”

Mairon made a muted sound of agreement around a sip of his latte. “Yep,” he said a moment later. “I have a workshop in the basement. I'm down there a lot, so really the house is yours most of the time.”

“Except when we watch weird movies together, right?”

He couldn't swear to it, but Melkor thought he saw the faint traces of a blush creep over Mairon's freckled cheeks. It was far too cute, and he decided in that moment that riling this boy up was likely to become one of his new favourite pastimes, especially if it resulted in a better, brighter blush. He was resolutely set on the Ultimate Blush, the One Blush to Rule Them All, and he always got what he wanted.

“Uh,” Mairon said intelligently, and Melkor had to take another drink of coffee to hide the pleased smile on his face. “Right,” Mairon continued, “I mean, I do want someone with similar interests. I don't want to rent this room if it's going to be to someone I can't be friends with, you know? I want someone who likes the same things I do, who I can hang out with sometimes, someone who... really likes animals and stuff.” Mairon took an uncomfortable drink, avoiding eye contact, and Melkor laughed.

“No, I get it. I'd love to watch creepy movies with you, and I happen to love animals and the occult, and all kinds of weird stuff, so I think we'd be a good fit, actually.” Mairon's blush was more obvious now, and Melkor decided that his little interview was going well. “I was wondering about the ghost thing though,” he said honestly. “Was that just a ruse to ward people off, or...?”

“Oh no,” Mairon cut in, “that was true. There's like nine ghosts in this place. It's weird.”

“Ah.” 

He wasn't sure what else to say to that. Then he thought of something he deemed considerably charming.

“Well I ain't afraid of no ghost.”

_Smooth,_ he told himself. “Nerd,” Mairon said  dismissively ,  though he laughed anyways, after an obvious attempt not to .

Melkor couldn't resist laughing along with him. He found himself increasingly enamoured,  g _oddamn it_ .

“Okay,” Mairon said, waving his hand as if to dispel the frivolity of their conversation, even as he continued to smile up at Melkor good-naturedly. “So enough about me. What do you do?”

Melkor winced. “Ah, I'm actually unemployed at the moment, but I do music.”

Mairon seemed to brighten at this, and sat up a little straighter. “Oh are you in a band or something? What do you play?”

“I actually play quite a few different instruments. I come from a very musical family, so I've been playing something or other all my life, but no, I'm not in a band. I've always wanted to be in one, but my dad's a real classical buff. He encouraged me to get into conducting, which was fun, I guess, for a while.”

Mairon frowned but seemed interested. “For a while?” he questioned, “what happened?”

Melkor couldn't resist grinning. He still  smiled every time he thought about the Incident, even though the Incident had led him directly to his current predicament. He couldn't help it. He was proud. “I may have agreed to conduct the ballet performance at the amphitheatre downtown recently- Swan Lake, you know  it ?”

Mairon clasped his hands over his mouth. “ _No_ ,” he said  incredulously , muffled but obviously delighted. When he removed his hands, he was smiling from ear to ear. Melkor grinned a little wider  in response . “I saw something about that in the paper. The one with the unexpected  heavy metal  and the guitars ? No one could figure out how they  even snuck  them in- it was a complete disaster!  The whole show was ruined!  That was you??”

Melkor was awash with pride.  He settled smugly back in his chair. “That was me. Unfortunately, it lost me a pretty cushy job, but oh man, was it worth it. I always though Swan Lake would be a hell of a lot cooler if it was a rock opera. Too bad my dad didn't really agree.”

“Oh Gods,” Mairon winced. “Was your dad your boss? Oh Jesus, that's fucked. Still, I'm impressed. I wish I could have been there.”

_I wish you could have been_ _there_ _too,_ he couldn't help but think. It would have been nice to have a  supportive face in the crowd. Instead, he was flooded by uncomfortable memories of  his brother Manwë's shocked expression from where he watched the performance with his wife. He didn't think Varda's disapproval could get any louder, any more  distinct, but he had been wrong. The rest of his family wore similar expressions of outrage, of disappointment, of pity even. And then there was his father. His heart wrenched as the memory of Eru's dismissal came, unbidden, and he felt his breath catch in his throat briefly before he forced a cocky grin and tried to ignore the way it still stung. He didn't need his asshole of a father's approval. He was better off depending on himself.

“Well,” he started, picking up where he left off, Mairon still watching him raptly, “you're not likely to see any future productions from me, unfortunately. I'm not sure anyone will hire me after that.”

“Pity,” Mairon said, and he seemed to mean it. “But how do you plan to afford rent and food if you don't have a job, if you don't mind me asking?

Melkor waved his hand dismissively. “I'm financially stable, don't worry. I'll need to find a new job eventually, but I can afford myself in the meantime. I could honestly afford to get my own place if I really wanted to, with all the money my dad's funnelled into accounts for me throughout my life.”

“So why don't you?”

Melkor paused. He considered making up an excuse, but the truth forced its way out in the end, like it always seemed to.

“I guess I've never really been alone. I'm not sure I want to be.”

Mairon studied him  for a while  and Melkor resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. He forced himself to sit  up  straight; he forced the weakness out of his eyes, but Mairon must have seen it. His smile softened and he gave Melkor an odd look. It was similar to the pity that he was used to seeing in the way Nienna looked at him, but... kinder. He narrowed his eyes. He wasn't sure he liked it.

“Alright Melkor,” Mairon began, and looked away, finally, to pull some papers out of his bag. “Let's talk details.”


End file.
